The Aye Aye (21 Scots Poems)

1.The Robin’s Nest Guid day noo bonnie Robin, an whit dae ye hae here? A nest I’ve bigged wi muckle care frae screivins far an near There are three eggies in thon nest. Whit bides inbye each shell’s A hairst o wirds by seannachies an bards frae Ayr tae Yell The first egg hauds a rowth o poems wad break yer hairt tae hear The secunt hauds a core o buiks o poets an their lear The third egg hauds a magic cloud, kens aa that ye micht speir An I maun guaird thon sky-blue eggs frae tod, or piercin thorn A kintra’s barderie needs a hame fur littlins yet unborn 2.Amangst the Trees three Birds war Steerin Amangst the trees three birds war steerin Deil the feather tae their name Three wee fledglins raxxin, skreichin Cheep cheep ma, wir wymes are teem Gies a wirm, a hornygollach A sappy slug, a forkietail, An emerteen, a furry moch The squashed intimmers o a snail Inbye a hoose, three bairns war steerin Bed-time, bit wi nae remeid Three wee bairnies, tcyauvin, skreichin Greetin fur a buik tae read Stories steek their een at nicht Dragons, feys, in widlans deep Fin the meen shines in the derkness Stories pave the wye tae sleep 3.Somethin in us niver dees Thrawn Janet haunts the midnicht oor Somethin in us niver dees Tho Stevenson is nocht bit stoor A buik aince born takks wing an flees Holy Willy…fa’d forget? Somethin in us niver dees Tho Burns langsyne is wirm’s maet A buik aince born takks wing an flees Rob Roy, daithless, wields his sword Somethin in us niver dees Walter Scott lies in the yird A buik aince born takks wing an flees Iain Banks an Muriel Spark Somethin in us niver dees Flesh an bluid maun tirr its sark A buik aince born takks wing an flees 4. Black an Fite Cat The Black an Fite cat wi the lugs o fur Is chawin a paper bird wi a smudge on his snoot that micht be ink he's ettin up ilkie wird the paper wings hae sentences that melt on the tongue like a dream the black an fite cat wi the lugs o fur wad rather hae thochts than cream 5. Dream o the Restless Bairnickie I dreamt I jyned the Seelie Coort An rade upon a futterat’s back It could baith flee an sweem the tide An breenge ben mony’s a happit track I slept aneth a puddock’s steel I sprouted wings, sae moosewab licht I climmed the steepest watter linn Haudin a salmon’s tailie, ticht I steppit inno warlocks’ haas An watched them steer their potions roon I wyved ma eildtrich wan, an syne I gart ten siller stars drap doon I kept a tiger in ma pooch I liked tae hear it yawn an purr An fin a bogieman lowped oot It chased him wi a muckle gurr I fand a gowden clarsach braw It played me mony’s the canty tune An it could daunce baith but and ben Frae midnicht’s quaet tae noisy noon An fin it rained, abune ma heid I held alaft a gowan flooer An fin it snaaed a robin tuik An warmed me in its feathery booer I hurled on beeswings throw the mist Tae crannies mortals dinna ken Tae play wi feys an fire-flauchts *lightning bolts The blithest bairnie in the glen! 6.A Waddin Toast Be as the swans that glimmer ower the loch Waddit for life, until Daith dis them pairt Be as the Cushie Doos, that coort foraye Their dearies, wi a douce an tender-hairt Be as the Ernes, sae fierce, an yet sae leal Far reengin, yet wi a returnin wing Be as the Hoolets, bosied in the laft Inbye their nest, fur comfort see them cling As burnie seeks the sea, an trees seek the air The merriege o a man an wife should be As blythe as blossom in the aspen’s hair As merry as the rowan on the lea It merks the stert o halvin life’s lang tcyaave Fin twa lie doon tae taste life’s sweets thegither Sae let the bells ring oot, the whisky poor Let aa gweed wishes bless this pair foriver 7.A Scots owersett of ‘Embrace’, a poem by Billy Collins Bosie Ye ken the kitchie gemme Wipp yer airms aroon her ain corp An frae ahin, it luiks like Someyin’s kinoodlin ye Her hauns, grippin yer sark Her fingernails kittlin yer nape Frae the front it’s anither maitter Ye niver luiked sae alane, yer crossed elbucks an daft grin. Ye could be wytin for a tailor tae meisur ye for a straichtjaiket, ane that wid haud ye really ticht. 8.A Scots Owersett of ‘The Father' by Nguyen Duy, The Faither In this airt there are sae mony Wha spent hauf their life in Viet Bac, The ither hauf amang the Truong Song Bens, Chiels an weemen wha aince ett reets, bamboo shoots fur maet An noo makk dae wi taro leaves an wud tendrils. Their gran hopes hae turned their skulls fite, Their kent clachans sae hyne awa noo, like hyne aff Sizzens A lifetime working in sun and rain, A lifetime waukin, an they've yet tae reach hame. Aa alang the hyne horizon, faimilies dover ower in sleep. A faither auld as a thoosan knows, a mither auld as a hunner burns. Whan the wins cam, they'll hae tae arc an cercle, climm ower The muckle ins an oots o the wids tae win tae this airt. 9.An Owersett in Scots of ‘How Lies Grow’, by Maxine Chernoff The first time I leed tae ma bairn I telt him it wis his physog on the pot o bairn maet. The secunt time I leed tae ma bairn I telt him that he wis the best bairn in the warld That I hoped he’d niver leave me Of course I wint him tae leave me ae day. I dinna wint him tae turn inno ane o thon creashie shaddas Fa bide in their mither’s hooses glowerin at gemme shows aa day. The third time I leed tae ma bairn, Quo I, ’Isn’t she bonnie? ’ O the wumman fa’d kittled him in his pram She wis auld an ill-faur’t, wi a smitt The fourth time I leed tae ma bairn I telt him the truith, I thocht. I telt him he’d hae tae leave me someday Or risk turnin inno a chiel in a dickie tie Fa etts macaroni on Fridays I telt him it wis for the best, Bit syne I thocht, I wint him tae bide wi me foraye. Ae day, he’ll gyang awa frae me. Syne, fit’ll I dae? 10.A Scots Owesett of 'Psalm before Sleep'by Peter Cooley Psalm afore Sleep Except for ma corp, fa gyangs wi me inno this wee daith? Except for the starnies openin noo in the lift abune, except for the boatie I fit inno sae snod, ma airms, ma shanks, chitterin tae thaw, dividin the muckle tides bearin me forrit. Except for this sang, the win in my lugs That’s jyned the lift, recitin a blaik music the aybydan life gaes on repeatin in seelence. This is the wye oot: the morn I’m some ither body I’ll meet ee tae ee, the ither shore raxxin up. This is the poem my wirds niver bring back. 11.An Owersett in Scots o ‘Silence’ bi Primo Levi, An unspukken kennin says that naebody spikks: in a glisk, aabodies’ sleepin, elbucks rammed teetle elbucks, faain o a suddenty forrit an yarkin upricht wi a stiffenin back. Ahin the jist-steeked een, dreams brakk oot wi virr, the ordnar dream. Tae be at hame in a winnerfu hett bath. Tae be at hame dowpit doon at the table. Tae be at hame, an tell the tale o the hopeless darg o oors, o this niver eyndin hunger. O the slave’s wye o sleepin.’ 12.Fit Div ye Dae? Fit div ye dae fin the enemy’s comin? Bide, or hide, or flee? Fit div ye dae fin the enemy’s comin? Set yer beasts aa free? Fit div ye dae fin the enemy’s comin? Gie them a cheery wave? Fit div ye dae fin the enemy’s comin? Dig yer neebor’s grave? Fit div ye dae fin the enemy’s comin? Makk them yer foe or frien? Fit div ye dae fin the enemy’s comin? Sup wi a smaaer speen? 13.Ersatz on Jersey Tea frae brummils, nettles, carrots Coffee frae acorns or parsnips Fags rowed ooto docken leaves As fur maet, rowe up yer sleeves Catch a rubbit, chap it up Makk a stew or soup tae sup 14.Mussel Moued Charlie (1676-1782) Mussel-moued Charlie, skinnymalink Heich as a pine tree, thin’s a reed Fiery een that pierced wi a blink A lantern jaw like a corp lang deid A gangrel body, he traivelled roon Aiberdeenshire, staff in his haun He lived till a hunner an five year auld A lantern jaw like a corp lang deid He carried his sangs in a leather pyoke Wi a Bible hung frae a bittie o towe In the fifteen, oot, an the forty five A Jacobite hero throwe an throwe The auldest body in Aiberdeen Twis at Auld Rayne he last drew braith The North British Wikkly magazine Wis sae sair-made it merked his daith Mussel-moued Charlie, a Lesly born Fowk sing his ballads an airs the day Mussel-moued Charlie, hawker chiel Pairt o the plaid o a kintra’s play 15.The Royal Mount I heard a ghillie caa the Royal Mount, John Broon Of coorse it is masel, the sturdy Fyvie, strang in the hochs Haudin alaft the queen’s braid sonsie dowp An here we staun in a dreich doonpish at Balmoral Rain skytin aff ma neck on a dowie day John Broon luikin dour, a face like a torn cloot He’s wishin hissel inbye wi a warmin dram Dry kilt, the favour o his monarch’s lug An fit mair fa’s tae ken, an less daur say I dream o ma hett stable, strae an hey The queen’s o hardy stock. Nae doot Anither oor o dreepin weet Humphin her up the braes o the Royal seat. 16.At the Brig o Dee Throwe the hairt o the derkenin toun, the toun o granite, The toun o gulls, skreichin ower siller streets By the lums on terraced reefs, the scholastic touers, Ben luvers’ fuspers an beggars priggin spikk The great Dee ripples an rins tae the ootraxxed sea Wi a sabbin soun at the auncient, sturdy brig Far traffic poors inbye frae the Central belt Creep- creepie up frae its sides, the hoosin schemes, Wi their banks o chitterin daffs, their worn girse The fisher wheechs his net ower the deeper puils An farrer doon the bows o the ile-rig ships, dunt An rain comes treetlin doon as the grey clouds shift Fin the lichts come on, an the nicht hings in the wings O the starnie Heivens, thoosans o fowk lang deid Heeze on the shores o the river, ghaists o the gaen An ay the rain faas doon, as if the toun wis greetin. 17.51st Highlander poem: Owerset in Scots below Là á Bhlàir's math na Càirdean Friens are gweed on the day o battle Na diobair caraid's a charraid Dinna forsakk a frien in the fecht Cuimhnichibh na suinn nach maireann. Mairidh an cliu beo gu brath. Mynd the Heroes fa gaed their aa May their Fame live on, frae the grave’s twilicht 18.A Puckle Doric Wirds I Like Atween, abeen, aneth, anither Black affrontit, bairnie, mither Cantie, vauntie, stooshie, cauld Craitur, clachan, clype, twa fauld Daunder, dottlet, deave an deen Drookit, dreich, delichtit, steen Faither, fa, fit, far an fan Feart, fash, ficher, flech an lan Foonert, fyky, flittin, baa Glaikit, gypit, gulshoch, snaa Hairstin, hirplin, hale an hoose Hinney, boolies, beddies, moose Ingins, aipples, neeps, ill-tricket Jeloused, joco, dumfounert, strippit Kirk, kist, lochan, lugs an loons Leid, laird, lea-rig, cweets an croons Foggy-bummer, futterat, fooshtie Fair ferfochan, fowk an roostie Ganzie, greetin, guddle, gype Gangrel, greetin, minkit, swipe Mony, mochie, mools, an meer Neuk, oot, orra, onding, sweir Puckle, peely-wally, puir Quine, reive, riggin, richt an muir Raikin, roose, rowth, contermaschious Scaffie, scutter, skelloch, fashious Semmit, sottar, speirin, skail Scunnert, stammygaster, kail Tattie, teuchter, thrapple, thocht Trauchelt, toonser, thrawn an socht Wabbit, watter, widen, wark Wizzent, yowie, wifie, sark Oxters, shouders, gee-gaws, dyke Add as mony mair’s ye like 19.The Bewteis of the Fute-Ball: (An early short anonymous Scottish poem) Brissit, brawnis and broken banis, Strife, discord and waistit wanis, Crookit in eild, syn halt withal – These are the bewteis of the fute-ball 20.Fitbaa See them on the fitba park Breengin up like girselowpers Heidin the baa, ram stam, like chairgin bulls Duntin doon in the glaur Skirlin, skelpin in tries Rowin in dubs like grumphies Snotters fleein oot their nebs Slivvers frae their mous Nae time tae dicht them awa In sna, in a doonpish, in haar Wyvin their airms like tattie bogles Hairy shanks, hudderie heids Sweirin, wenchin, boozin Wi ither celebs An the fans, fechtin, malagaroozin ane anither Lauchin, ettin rowies an pies Greetin, skreichin, wyin bunnets an flags Weirin Wee Jimmy hats An eftir, the players Scrattit knees, stounin shins Pick up the pye packet Nae bad fur an eftirneen’s wirk 21.The Following Poems are Scots Owersets of Japanese Tankas Lady Ise 870-935, influental daughter of a province governor E’en fur a span Cuttie’s a jynt o a teenie segg Frae Naniwa’s bog, We maun niver tryst again In this life? This, dae ye speir? Fujiwara no Kintsune Nae the snaa o flooers, That the hashin wud wind furls Roon the gairden coort: Fit dwines an faas awa In this airt is I masel. Fujiwara no Kinto (Fujiwara no Kinto) 966-1041, imperial counsellor Tho the wattergaw In its flow, stapped langsyne, An its soun is seelence; Yet, in name it iver rins, An in fame micht yet be heard. Lady Shikishi Naishinno (Shokushi Naishinno) 1150-1201 daughter of Emperor Go-Shirakawa Life! Thon towe o gems! Gin ye are tae eyn, brakk noo. For, gin yet I live, Aa I dae tae hide ma luve May at the hinnereyn dwine an fooner. Scots Owersetts of 4 poems by Ono no Komachi. Ono no Komachi c.825 – c.900 was a Japanese waka poet, one of the Rokkasen—the Six best Waka poets of the early Heian period. She was renowned for her unusual beauty, and Komachi is today a synonym for feminine beauty in Japan. She also counts among the Thirty-six Poetry Immortals. 1) Did I catch a glisk o him Because I fell asleep Thinkin aboot him? If anely I’d kent I wis dream I’d niver hae waukent 2) Nae wye tae see him On this meenless nicht— I lie waukent, langin, burnin, Breist racin like a lowe, Hairt in flames. 3) The girselowpers sing In the gloamin Of my clachan on the Ben The nicht, naebody Will veesit bar the win. 4) Since this corp Wis forgotten By the ane wha pledged tae cam, My anely thocht is winnerin Whether it’s even leevin. From English translations of the Man’yoshu and the book, “The Ink Dark Moon”, by Hirshfield and Aratani.